Fame says he was a bard—Fame did not save
His name beyond the living of his hour—
A luckless dower.
’Tis strange to see how equally we die,
Though equal honour be unknown to light,
The lord, the lady of distinction high,
And he, the bard, who sang their noble might,
Sink into death alike and peacefully;
Though some may want the marble’s honour’d site,
Yet earth holds all that earthliness did slight.